You'll Never Catch Me, I'm The Gingerbread Man
by kci47
Summary: Voldemort finally has a chance to glean important information from Harry-but then everything goes wrong. Parody. Written for Griffinesque on the HPFC Fic Exchange. Since the exchange is over I'm finally able to post this on my account!


**This was originally posted on the HPFC Exchange account**, so if you've seen it before – I didn't steal it. I wrote it, and all fics were posted on that account so that they could be judged anonymously. It has since been removed from that account so that it isn't in violation of the rule about the same content being posted twice. **(I did, however, steal this disclaimer from Someone aka Me, because SaM worded it so perfectly!)**

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Griffinesque's prompt:

Bellatrix/Voldemort

Must have: An obsessed Bellatrix, a manipulative Voldemort, an idiot, a random Death Eater that loves irritating Voldemort, an adorable living cat, a worried Voldemort, a Voldemort that is terrified of Bellatrix, a hallucinating Harry.

Genre: parody.

Rating: K or T

Bonus Point: A Voldemort in a red dress and a horrified Harry... and the gingerbread man.

No-No: Anything graphic.

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"But I _love _gingerbread!" Harry wailed, his face contorting into a pout as he tried to grasp at thin air.

"I told you your _ginger-haired_ friend wasn't here to save you now, Potter, not that I was going to give you treats!" Voldemort snarled, circling his nemesis as Potter sat chained to the chair in the middle of the room. The assembled group of Death Eaters watched in gleeful anticipation.

"_I told you your ginger-haired friend wasn't here to save you now, Potter, not that I was going to give you treats!_" mimicked Rowle, following a step or two behind Voldemort.

"Cease that at once!" Voldemort thundered to the Death Eater.

"_Cease that at once!_" came the answer in a high-pitched voice.

Voldemort ground his teeth together and tried to ignore the Death Eater playing 'shadow' behind him. He studied Potter for a moment instead, one finger idly tracing the spot where his nose used to be.

"Something's not right," he finally announced.

"_Something's not right!_" Rowle said.

"Who questioned him before he was brought in? Step forward!" He would get to the bottom of this mystery in short order.

"_Who questioned him before—_" Rowle's imitation was abruptly cut short as Voldemort cast a Silencing Spell at him. Voldemort was not in the mood for games.

"I did, my Lord! Have I pleased you?" Bellatrix stepped forward, sweeping Voldemort an enormous curtsey.

"Was he speaking nonsense before you questioned him?" Voldemort asked her.

"The Potter brat always speaks nonsense, oh greatest of Lords!" Bellatrix cooed. "He claimed that you would never obtain the information you desired even if you tortured him, my Dark idol, so I tortured him for you!" She finished her explanation by dropping to her knees and kissing his feet.

Voldemort recoiled, nearly tripping on Rowle as he took a hasty step backwards. "You tortured him? Bellatrix, you know the rules! Potter is not to be touched by anyone but me!"

"Yes, my Lord, I'm sorry, my Lord!" she cried, prostrating herself fully on the ground. "Punish me!"

The eager way Bellatrix urged him to punish her caused a bad taste to arise in his mouth. "That will not be necessary—_yet_," he hissed, and he saw her frown in disappointment.

"Oh, how cute!" Harry laughed suddenly, drawing everyone's attention. "That cat is wearing a kimono!"

Everyone glanced in the direction that Harry was looking. A black cat that was most certainly _not _wearing a kimono sat on a chair, delicately licking a paw. As though it realized all eyes had turned to it, the cat looked around with wide green eyes before turning its back on the group and continuing with its bath.

Voldemort pressed a hand to his eyes. "You've damaged him, Bella," he growled. This was just unbelievable—this morning he'd torn his favorite set of robes on his pet stone gargoyle, then the coffee shop his Death Eaters had robbed had been out of his favorite Brazilian blend, and now Potter was out of his mind thanks to an ill-cast Crucio courtesy of Bellatrix Lestrange. Honestly, could his day _get _any worse?

"NO! STOP! MAKE HIM STOP!" Potter's screams pierced Voldemort's musings. Death Eaters were leaping to their feet all over the room, wands pointed haphazardly at every door, window, and moving object. When it became apparent that they were not under attack, Voldemort turned again to face Potter.

"What are you yelling about, boy?" he demanded.

"_What are you yelling about, boy?_" Rowle said from directly behind him, the large man's giggle sounding vastly incongruous. Voldemort rolled his eyes, wondering who had undone the previous Silencing Spell.

Voldemort didn't even look backwards this time, settling on shooting a _Petrificus Totalus _blindly over his shoulder. He heard a thump and assumed it was Rowle.

"PLEASE NO! I'll tell you whatever you want, just make him take it off!" Potter cried, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Potter, stop this at once!" Voldemort commanded.

"Only if you take it off!" the boy howled.

"I give up," Voldemort muttered half to himself. "Someone find out what the boy is rambling about," he ordered his Death Eaters.

"I will, my Lord, and he shall rue the day he defied you!" Bellatrix shrieked, leaping to her feet and pointing her wand at Potter.

"NO!" Voldemort sprung forward and knocked her wand away. "I mean, no, Bellatrix. Allow someone else the honor. You have already taken your turn." He didn't want to risk Bellatrix damaging the boy's mind further, but he was afraid to tell her so. Better to let her believe that she needed to wait her turn. She pouted mightily but stepped away, and Yaxley came forward.

"I will question him, my Lord," the level-headed Death Eater offered. Voldemort nodded and indicated the boy strapped to the chair. Potter opened one eye, looked to Voldemort, then slammed his eyes shut and started yelling again.

"MAKE HIM STOOOOOP!" Potter cried.

"Enough!" roared Yaxley. "Tell us what you're saying, brat, or I'll sic him on you!"

"No, please, anything but that!" Potter moaned. "Not in that dress, please, no!"

"Dress? What dress? Who's wearing a dress?" Yaxley and the others looked around, confused. Bellatrix was the only person in a dress in the entire room.

"HIM!" Harry jabbed a finger in Voldemort's direction, and everyone turned to look. Voldemort aimed a glance over his shoulder, thinking that perhaps Rowle was playing yet another irritating joke. But Rowle was still suffering the effects of the Full-Body Bind.

"He's wearing that hideous red dress! Voldemort! It's awful, it's at least three decades out of style..." Now smiles were beginning to show on the faces of his previously loyal Death Eaters.

"I am certainly _not _wearing a dress," Voldemort hissed, hoping to intimidate his followers back into submission.

"It does nothing for your figure; oh, it's horrid!" Potter exclaimed, firmly turning his head away from Voldemort. Voldemort heard several coughs designed to cover the sound of laughter and he felt his temper rise.

"How dare you—"

"I think you look dashing, my lordliest of Lords!" Bellatrix once again threw herself on the ground in front of him amid the undisguised laughter of the other Death Eaters. Voldemort repressed a moan—it seemed that yes, his day _could _get worse.

"For the last time, I am not wearing a dress of any color!" Voldemort slashed his wand and the entire room was struck with a Silencing Spell. He paced back and forth in front of Potter, wondering how to proceed. It was clear the boy was not right in the mind—thanks to Bellatrix and her inability to control herself when casting Unforgivables—but Voldemort was unsure of whether or not he could still extract the needed information from the boy. With his mind this unstable, it would be unwise to attempt Legilimency.

Worried that he would be too late if he delayed much longer, he removed the spell from his followers and asked, "Do any of you have any useful suggestions for convincing Mr. Potter to talk? We need to know what he knows about the Order's movements, and we need to know _now_."

He was surprised when Vinnie Crabbe raised his hand. "Yes?" Voldemort prompted when the burly man made no move to speak.

"Oh. Didn't know if ya saw me there. I was thinkin', why not let the cat ask 'im? He seemed ter like the little fellow a-fore." As he spoke, Crabbe Sr. used his wand to scratch his behind.

Voldemort sighed and stared at the ceiling for a long moment, wishing he had perhaps been a bit more selective with his followers back when he was first amassing his army. "You—are—an—idiot," he bit out, flicking his hand and causing Crabbe Sr. to go flying back against the wall. "Anyone else?"

He saw Bellatrix opening her mouth to speak again, but he turned so that he was not facing her and hurriedly added, "No one? Very well. I will have to solve this problem myself, as usual."

"Red's not your color, you know," Potter added unhelpfully. Voldemort clenched his fists in aggravation.

"Enough wallowing about!" Voldemort strode up to the chair where Potter was imprisoned and bent down to stare into the unfocused green eyes. "Tell me what I want to know or I will—" he paused, wondering if what he was about to do would be worth the ridicule that would follow, "or I will wear this dress in front of you every day for the rest of your life!"

Unsurprisingly, snickers and guffaws rang out around the room, and from the corner of his eye he saw one Death Eater who was laughing so hard he was crying. However, it seemed to have done the trick with Potter, whose eyes were round and terrified in his ashen face.

"But that's—what would you do when it needed a wash?" Potter questioned, tilting his head to the side curiously. "You couldn't walk around starkers."

Throwing his hands into the air in defeat, Voldemort walked away from the infuriating boy. At this rate he would never surprise the Order with an attack in time. They were probably already close to tracking down Potter, anyway. It was time to cut his losses.

"Since our dear friend is clearly not going to be of any use to us, it is time to say goodbye," Voldemort hissed to his audience.

"_Say goodbye!_" Rowle mimicked gleefully.

"Lovely to see you!" his prisoner announced cheerfully. "Please tell that adorable Japanese cat that I—"

"_Avada Ked_—"

"My irresistibly attractive Lord! Wait!" Bellatrix rushed forward, only stopping shy of touching Voldemort when he aimed his wand at her. "Give me one more chance, I beg you; I will prove myself worthy of your vaunted esteem at last!" She clasped her hands to her heart beseechingly.

Not wanting to provoke her legendary anger, Voldemort gestured at Potter resignedly. "I don't suppose it really matters now," he muttered.

"Oh, thank you, my Lord, your kindness and generosity knows no bounds!" Bellatrix gushed, and Voldemort cringed. He wished she would use words like 'ferocity' and 'ruthlessness' instead. Apparently Bellatrix was not nearly as afraid of his temper as he was of hers.

"Harry Potter!" she cried suddenly, running up and shoving her face close to the boy's, "Tell my handsome lord what he wants to know _right now _or I'll send you to bed without supper!"

"Well, the joke's on you, because I had supper before I came here!" Potter threw back in her face.

Bellatrix's face fell and she crumpled to her knees, burying her head in her arms and wailing something that sounded like, "Now he'll _never _love me..."

Voldemort furrowed his brow and looked down at his most passionate Death Eater, confused. "Is that really the best you could do, Bella?" he asked, scratching his hairless head.

She leapt to her feet and jammed her handheld knife against his throat. Somehow, Voldemort always forgot about her knife. "Oh, was that not _good enough _for you, my Lord? Perhaps you wanted me to be a little bit _nicer _to the little half-blood scum, hm?" Her eyes were practically bulging out of her face and Voldemort held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"No, Bellatrix, I am very—_pleased _with your efforts. I did not mean to question your methods." As she drew the knife away, Voldemort allowed himself to release a breath of relief.

"I'll have you know that threat always worked on me as a child," Bellatrix informed him petulantly. "I can't imagine anything worse than _no supper_."

"Of course not, I fully agree," Voldemort hastily assured her.

"Can I keep this?" Potter interrupted them. Looking around, Voldemort saw the same black cat now curled up in the boy's lap, purring as Potter stroked his head with one manacled hand. Before he could blink, however, the cat glowed blue and Potter, the cat, and the chair all vanished with a loud _pop_.

"Noooooooooo!" Voldemort shrieked, his rage and frustration boiling over. "Whose cat was that?" he demanded. The unlucky owner was about to be on the receiving end of an _Avada Kedavra_.

"Er, meant ter mention sommat ter ya 'bout that," Crabbe Sr. spoke up, rubbing his large gut nervously. "Somebody said somethin' 'bout a un-author-mized Portkey earlier but then ya silenced ev'rybody an'—"

Voldemort dropped his head into his hands and wondered when his life had swerved so far off track.

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**A/N: Written for Griffinesque in the HPFC Fic Exchange with the prompts at the top. Many thanks to my beta reader Jemmenuie for reading this quickly and providing some helpful suggestions! **


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